


The Nature of Choice

by GoodeyeCyborg



Series: PolyDelphi [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: ambulon has a bad time, prowl is a tool, the djd is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 11:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodeyeCyborg/pseuds/GoodeyeCyborg
Summary: I've got headcanons and I'm about to make that everyone's problem. Anyway, Ambulon and Prowl have a chat about Delphi and Ambulon's lot in life.





	The Nature of Choice

Ambulon took a steadying vent before he stepped into the shabby room Prowl had chosen as his office. The strategist had summoned him hours ago, and ever since he had been anxious. He hadn’t met Prowl before, but in his years as a Decepticon he had heard plenty of rumors. He was cold. He was cruel. He was borderline sparkless but had led the Autobots to a number of tide turning victories. The same rumors were echoed once he joined the Autobot ranks. 

“Sir, you wanted to see me?” 

“You’re early.” He hadn’t even looked up from the datapad he was studying. 

Ambulon swallowed and picked at a patch of flaking paint on his thigh. “Yeah. If its a problem, I can wait a couple minutes and come back in.” 

“Its fine.” He sighed and set his datapad aside. “Have a seat.” 

Ambulon sat down in the chair he hadn’t noticed before Prowl nodded to it. His hands curled in his lap so he could continue picking at his paint anxiously without being noticed. 

Prowl pulled out a different datapad and stared at it for a moment. “Ambulon. Cold constructed. Former Decepticon. Alt mode: Leg. Former combiner. Medic. Does this sound correct so far?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Where is the remainder of your combiner team?” 

“I don’t know and, quite frankly, I don’t care.” He frowned and glared at Prowl. “If you called me in here to question my loyalties I will walk out now.” 

Prowl’s brow quirked. “That’s not my purpose here. But your,” He paused and looked him over, “Temper will be noted for future conversations.” 

He understood well now why none of the Autobots had anything nice to say about Prowl. There was nothing about him that sat right with Ambulon. “Great. So what is the point of all of this then?” 

“What do you know about the Delphi medical facility?” 

Ambulon had to reach deep into his memories for that. He had heard about it only a couple of times. Small, next to a mine, and ice cold. Dangerous. “I know where it is.” 

“Messatine. Yes. Formerly Decepticon territory. You know, that’s where the movement was founded, at least, that’s what I’ve heard.” His gaze settled on Ambulon, more specifically, where his Autobot badge was. “You are familiar with the Decepticon Justice Division, I assume?” 

His lines ran cold and his tanks churned. Of course he had heard of them. They were the threat that loomed over him and every other Con that realized the “Movement” had become something grotesque. They were a noose around his neck. One that felt tighter the longer that Prowl talked. “I am.” 

“They call Messatine their home base. None of our medics have seen them, but that doesn’t stop them from being a threat.” 

“Sir they only-” 

“Only kill former Decepticons? Correct. What do you think those mines are full of? Mechs just like you who joined the side that was winning.” 

Ambulon’s jaw and fists clenched. He didn’t like where Prowl was going with this, and he liked his tone even less. “What’s your point? If they haven’t attacked the mine or Delphi, then what’s got you worried?” 

“The fact of the matter is that they might.” He snapped. “I called you here because I need you to go to Delphi. We need you to act as our backup plan.” 

Ambulon felt like he was falling. No. He was being pulled down. An icy hand was locked around his throat. It squeezed and dragged him down and away from this room. “You mean, as a bargaining chip?” 

“I was trying to be diplomatic about it, but yes. Your former status as a science experiment grants you a certain notoriety with the DJD.” His tone was even. Calm. Obnoxiously matter of fact. Like he wasn’t proposing sending another mech to a violent and certain death. “They want you and, should they set their sights on the mine, it is vital for us to avert their gaze. Do you understand?” 

His hands shook violently. His fingertips dug into his palms, further chipping the paint. He shook his head. “No. I don’t. I want you to spell out plainly what it is you’re asking me to do.” 

Prowl nodded solemnly. “I want you to go to Delphi. If the DJD show up I fear they will not only destroy the mine, which provides the resources that are allowing us to win battle after decisive battle. I want the other medics to be able to offer you up as a, as you put it, bargaining chip. Take the former combier experiment and leave the facility and mine alone. It won’t satisfy them permanently, but it will buy me time to send another former Con to take your place and extend the deal.”

“You’ve done this before then?” The words left Ambulon’s throat before he could choke them back. 

“Yes.” 

It was a simple word. Yes. But it was loaded with implications. Other former Decepticons, who had left to find others who’s morals aligned with their own, had sat here. They had been told that their life was worth less that that of others by virtue of which side they’d started on. Ambulon had been built for the Decepticon army. He hadn’t been allowed to choose, and yet here he sat, being told that he had picked wrong. If he had been allowed to choose, he would have never gotten involved. He would have left. He wouldn’t be sitting across from Prowl being asked to become a martyr. To face the DJD and say they could take him, a fate he would never wish on anyone. And all for mechs who looked at him the way Prowl did, with some cruel mix of pity and disgust. He would die to save them so that another mech just like him could be sent to the same slaughter again and again. It would be utterly pointless. But that was apparently his birthright. He had been built to be a victim to violence he didn’t understand, it was a fate he had thought he could avoid if he was smart enough. He had done everything right. Yet he still ended up blindfolded and kneeling before a firing squad. The unfairness of it choked him. 

“You’d be saving lives.” 

He nodded.  

“So you understand what we’re asking of you?” 

“I do.” His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. It was quiet and strained.  

“Will you do it?” 

“I’ll do it.” He stood slowly, not wanting to be in the room any more. “It doesn’t sound like I have a choice in the matter.” Ambulon loathed the way that his voice trembled. He was afraid and if it were someone else before him, he would have been less ashamed to admit it. 

“Discussing this before hand was only a courtesy to Ratchet. The others before you went in blind, which I thought was kinder than telling them. He insisted though, that you be made aware of what your position was. To make it short, no. You don’t really have a choice. You’ll be shipping out in the morning.” 

“Thank you for your transparency.” 

  
  


Ambulon didn’t remember walking back to his quarters. He didn’t remember packing his sparse belongings. He slid beneath the covers of his berth, wondering where his roommate was. He wanted to say good bye but it didn’t seem like he was going to have that chance. It didn’t matter. Nothing he had done for the Autobots had mattered. Working with Ratchet, learning medicine in the field, providing insider information about the combiner experiments, all was for nothing. Hell, even the way he painted his frame as regularly as he could so everyone else could ignore the beast he’d been built as. That’s all they saw him as. A monster. Something below them. Which was why he’d been given the mission he’d been give. It didn’t matter. He sighed and shuttered his optics. 

He knew his old friend First Aid was at Delphi. They’d both worked with Ratchet shortly after Ambulon had joined the Autobots. He’d grown fond of both of them over time. But with First Aid it had been different. They were both former pieces of combiners. First Aid’s had parted ways leaving him with depression and useless alt mode. Ambulon could, of course relate.That’s who he had to tell himself he was doing this for. Not the miners. Not Prowl. Nobody but First Aid. 

Despite the fear that filled his spark and chased him from sleep, acceptance began to settle over him.  He had been living on borrowed time since his construction. Why not go out protecting a friend? It was more than he could have asked for on the other side of the war, after all. 


End file.
